Empathy
by Novoux
Summary: Shizuo discovers an old relic from Izaya's childhood—and wishes he hadn't. Shizaya; for Mokumi.


The edge of the book sticks out like a sore thumb. Old and worn with the once rigid edge now a stump of its former pride, whatever it is. Shizuo notices it in a way that shouldn't be ironic—stubbing his toe into it isn't so much of a big deal that Izaya makes it out to be. Only the strange part is how secretive Izaya is about the book, shoving it behind yet another bookshelf and far behind books so it can't be found. If Shizuo looks, then he could find it easily. With no regard to his stubbed toe or whatever the hell the book is Izaya starts chattering about something else, acting as if Shizuo isn't grumbling over his toe and Izaya's secretive nature. If he cares to know, then he probably doesn't care all that much.

But the book lingers on Shizuo's mind. The bumped edge, thinking—what if Izaya's angry—that maybe he ruined it and his boyfriend is annoyed (which isn't fair because it's the stupid book's fault in the first place) and won't talk about it because it's pointless. Well there is one part right to that argument, but the rest doesn't sit well with Shizuo. Throughout taking an invitation to sit and wait for Izaya to finish work before joining him on the couch he can't help but think about the book. A brown covering, just a hint of silver at the edge crookedly bent and whether or not it's by Shizuo he doesn't know. Izaya doesn't mention anything useful besides his usual chatter and retorts when Shizuo thinks of every way to call him a bastard.

The clicking of the keyboard makes Shizuo's boredom force itself into existence. Every channel on the television becomes listless stupidity and he knows Izaya's habits with children's shows, flipping to one just to prove his point. Within minute he sees Izaya's head rise every now and then, watching the cartoons. One of those characteristics of his, Shizuo deduces it as and decides not to question it any further. The book is almost forgotten as an hour or two ticks by and Izaya finally finishes for the day, the channel already moved to something different and Shizuo is half asleep by the time he gets up.

"Shizu-chan, move over." Izaya rolls his eyes, extending one hand to push Shizuo away or off his expensive couch, a nice number of zeroes on the price tag and probably just for making himself look better. All it does is make him look like an idiot, in Shizuo's opinion. Then again he never really cares much about that—most of the time. As soon as his hand comes in range Shizuo's eyes are half-open, slinging himself up and pulling Izaya on top of him as he comes to rest again on the pillow propped against the couch arm. It takes less than a second for all of this to occur and seconds more for Izaya to come to, realizing that no matter what he does it won't change the fact that there are arms entrapping him and he doesn't understand that Shizuo is not patient. At all.

"Let go of me, you brute," Izaya grumbles, shifting weakly in Shizuo's grasp but even he knows it's hopeless. The arms around him keep him grounded, at least giving him enough room to make himself comfortable over the thud of a heart beating into his ear when he turns to rest. Closing his eyes sounds tempting, namely when Shizuo's hand is in his hair and massaging his scalp without crushing his skull. A feat for a monster and one that's too stupid to realize the effects he has when he doesn't even try—sometimes things just aren't fair and to make them a little better for the burn on his ego Izaya won't admit to it. He's not typically one to do so, no matter the circumstances.

Without the white light of his computer screen stinging into his eyes, Izaya's head comes to rest on Shizuo's sternum, sliding up a little higher when the blond runs a careful hand through his hair and he could purr—Shizuo thinks the flea is part cat, something Shinra could test for him—with content at this point. Even the lips on his head don't rouse Izaya, breaths starting to even out as he rests his head on Shizuo's chest and it's easy to forget everything else so long as Izaya stays like this.

It doesn't last for long.

That damn book won't just leave him alone. Sure, Izaya has plenty of books, ones that Shizuo has read (knowing that whenever he looks smart Izaya gets a little attentive) and ones that he doesn't much care for. But the one he smashed his toe into didn't look like a book and even though he only saw a corner it was thin and big, but it matters more that Izaya reacted badly to seeing it. It's not like he destroyed it or anything, so why would Izaya raise a fuss over it?

"Hey, flea," Shizuo rubs a hand over Izaya's arm, garnering attention before it falters and results in a kiss to his jaw, humming as an affirmative for listening. "What was that book? The one I hit earlier?" In an instant Izaya moves from relaxed to freezing in place, expressions changing too quickly on his face—confusion—anger—annoyance—and then he's scowling, shaking his head and pushing his way out of Shizuo's arms as if the blond has just insulted him for liking ootoro a bit too much. Though that comparison is a little too silly for a serious argument—Izaya takes ootoro _very_ seriously—the expression suits Izaya in a would-be event. For now Shizuo's mind starts to run with the idea that the book he hit earlier must've been something more than a book, it just has to be and he doesn't get why Izaya wouldn't tell him anything about it.

They're closer than that, he knows that well even if Izaya never admits to it.

But this bothers him more than it should. It's a stupid book, for Christ's sake.

"Shizu-chan, don't ask stupid questions." Izaya bristles, a bit too hostile to sound normal and Shizuo can hear the bite on his tongue—he's nowhere close to ripping it out, Izaya shouldn't be this angry at him when he pushes Shizuo back and gets up to move away from the couch. "If you're coming to bed with me, then stop asking about stupid things." Okay, too far. Way too far to let him turn on his heels and have his little tantrum up the stairs and no, Shizuo's not going to settle for when his boyfriend looks so visibly upset or angry at him without any reason why.

A hand catches Izaya's wrist, anchoring him in place and brown eyes are on him. Even with warm fingers Izaya's curl into a fist, intent on shaking him off. "What the hell? Why are you getting mad over a damn book? Did I break it or something?" Izaya's eyes roll, narrowing with a frustrated furrow that Shizuo knows is one of his expressions for _stop asking I don't want to explain_ and maybe another time he'd let that happen. But now isn't the time to just let it slide, not when his boyfriend is blatantly being more hostile than normal and bringing out the insults.

"Shizu-chan," Izaya's other hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a classic sign that he's getting irritated and it's just too bad that Shizuo is too, because not _knowing_ something is annoying and when it involves Izaya he's more than just concerned for the book. He's doesn't even care for it—what he cares about is Izaya and why he's acting weird. "Stop asking. It's just a book, you're overreacting."

"Overreacting?" he snorts. "You're the one acting so offended over a book. What happened? Tell me, 'cause you know I'm not gonna stop annoying you until you give me an answer."

One tug and Izaya falls back into Shizuo's lap, legs spread and Shizuo's arm quickly coming around him to hold him down, lips pressed against his neck in what can be classified as the usual nightly harassment. Not that Shizuo really cares if Izaya starts to squirm, knowing it's all for show—'sides, Izaya's a painfully bad liar. Especially with his moods, which are far too easy to read and _not_ ignore.

Kisses start up Izaya's neck from his collarbone, just over ticklish skin that has the informant twitching with regret. "Shizu- _chan_ ," he breathes in a collective groan of either disappointment or because Shizuo happens to know he's very ticklish. Probably the first one, but the latter can be considered as well. "It's just a book. If you _must_ know, I didn't realize I had it."

"Bullshit." It slips through him and into Izaya's skin faster than he can stop himself and a second time when he lifts his lips away from Izaya's squirming. "You know the name of every single book you _own—_ lying about it is only gonna make this harder." With that his fingers start twitching over Izaya's sides in the first sign of Izaya's self-inflicted torture. His boyfriend can squirm and growl all he wants, can pretend it doesn't bother him at all but if he thinks Shizuo can't _see_ the tremble in his shoulders then he's got another thing coming. The lack of reaction only prompts Shizuo further, digging his fingers in a little more and moving up to Izaya's ribs, dancing over his shirt and brushing off Izaya's hands attempting to pry him off.

"Ha—Stop it!" Izaya groans, biting his tongue to hide the noises coming from him. Each burst of air catches on his tongue, sounding suspiciously like giggles. But Izaya does _not_ giggle. According to him, that is. "Sh-Sh-Shizu-chan! Kn-Knock it off!" More frustrated noises come from him, turning into groans as lips attack his neck and nip at his skin. His throat trembles with vibrations stifled on his tongue, pressing into Shizuo's lips with quick nips turning into mischievous licks. The irritated air around him is still there—of _course_ it is, but it's not so dark as before when talking about a book of all things. Of anything Shizuo expects Izaya to get angry about—plenty of things—one of the very few things he'd expect would be a nameless book.

And so tickling him seems like a very fitting punishment. It's only fair, because Izaya is fatally ticklish and it's funny watching that serious pout come undone as he tries not to laugh, hands covering Shizuo's face to push him away from the skin under his ear. Shizuo's teeth worry at the flesh, sensitive to the touch and he can tell by how Izaya groans a little lower, seething as he spits air and possibly fire while he demands Shizuo to let go of him. Shizuo's lips and teeth leave below Izaya's ear when his groans start to turn into stifled moans, shifting uncomfortably in Shizuo's grasp while he breathes harshly over hiccups and laughter that threatens to ruin his godly image. He just so _cute,_ it's not fair that he has to do anything else besides make Izaya pout and squirm just from tickling him. Hell, any face of his—except the crude, snide, or chiding ones—is adorable.

Not exactly something to say to his face, however. Though Shizuo's lips travel over Izaya's jaw, impervious to Izaya's fingers trying to pry him off or the voiced protests of Izaya trying too hard to pretend he doesn't enjoy it. Which he shouldn't, not as soon as Shizuo's lips reach the corner of his mouth and Izaya's head automatically turns to meet his lips a little too eagerly. Shizuo won't ask, since there's no point in testing Izaya's stubbornness—that means removing his fingers, because Izaya's patience runs thin when he wants something else. Maybe Shizuo will get his revenge later.

For now, he's content with this slide of lips over his as Izaya turns, not too much but enough to show a clear interest in covering Shizuo's lips with his own. And for all Shizuo knows he can dominate the kiss with little pecks, eyes slipping shut as an easy automatic reaction with a hand sliding into his hair to caress the back of his head. It wouldn't be a surprise if he just started purring at this rate, not when he looks so much like a cat and acts like one, sans tail and ears. The attitude is there, however.

The kiss isn't more than a gentle slip of lips, Izaya trapping his bottom lip and pulling at it, sucking it in between his and releasing it with the end of each short kiss. Though when Shizuo growls with impatience, Izaya smirks against his lips and then he's not protesting as Shizuo moves him to fit in his lap a little easier, head tilting to catch Izaya's stupid little smirk and press him closer. Izaya responds in kind, licks coming from a devious tongue without any intention of going any further but the simple trace of Shizuo's lips, not as soft or as plump as his and he won't stand for being compared to a girl, though that's not what Shizuo means whenever he teases him about it.

Moments pass with Izaya in his lap, kissing him like he's not as mad as before though his lips are still tighter than normal, meaning he's still got an issue with what Shizuo wants to know. Though that tongue is distracting, dancing over his lips and if Shizuo opens his mouth as an invitation then it retreats, teeth closing and refusing to let him have a little fun. He supposes he deserves it, for getting distracted by a kiss and for pissing Izaya off. And then there's some sense to break the kiss when Izaya relaxes in his lap a little more, letting his boyfriend sit while he thinks of picking his next words.

Shizuo really can't help it—he's just too curious by nature. Beastly, stupid, or whatever, he still wants to know. With Izaya in his arms and nowhere near escaping, though never tired enough to give in completely to Shizuo's demands, he'll have to settle for the next best thing.

That will most definitely be the best foolproof way of getting in trouble. Well, it's a noble sacrifice when he can make up for it later, but Izaya shouldn't be so defensive over it anyway. And with an unceremonious dump of Izaya from his lap to the couch, he pulls himself to his feet after a quick kiss pressed to Izaya's forehead—a premonition, undoubtedly—before he pads over to the bookshelf where Izaya shoved it behind and ignoring the protests that start up immediately. All of it is background noise, not caring if Izaya's mad because he hates it when the flea keeps things from him, no matter if it's just a book. Izaya shouldn't have those kinds of things lying around anyway.

As soon as his fingers touch the metal edge of the book he can feel eyes boring into his back, glaring at him with disappointment evident and _maybe_ there's a small twinge of guilt when he pulls it free. But Izaya isn't stopping him, knowing it's pointless and Shizuo is so much stronger than him that it's kind of weird when he remembers he has an advantage over the self-proclaimed god. Not like it's a bad thing, since Izaya has way too much fun lording over Shizuo with the temptation he is and his sly words that are nothing but sugar-coated bullshit.

But when he pulls the book free, it's heavier than it seemed before and Shizuo quickly adjusts, feeling Izaya's eyes narrow on him and ignoring it in favor of pulling the thing free, realizing it's much bigger too. Confused, Shizuo holds it in both hands and mulls over the curious thing that it is, pieces starting to click together when he reads the kanji— _Izaya Orihara—_ and turns to glance back up at his boyfriend who is already on his feet.

"Happy now, Shizu-chan?" Izaya grinds his teeth, just enough for Shizuo to get a taste of his frustration that hangs in the air. "I'm going to bed. _Don't_ come upstairs unless you want to be stabbed." Melodramatic as always, but he's never been so angry this quickly. Shizuo wants to ask, caught between annoyance and just wanting to spite his boyfriend because he doesn't see any reason why he has to be an ass when it's just a book he's whining about.

Shizuo steps forward, book in hand and he can see Izaya's eyes on the thing, flicking up to him. "Izaya, what the hell is going on with you? Why won't you tell me what this is?" It's not even that suspicious, just an inconspicuous book with the flea's name on it. It doesn't stop Izaya from heading up the steps, feet light but still with the stabbing force of being angry enough to not conceal it well. Even if it's meant to be a perk—seeing when Izaya's angry instead of hiding it all the time—Shizuo can't help that salty, suffocating feeling of knowing he's done something wrong.

"Damn it, flea," Shizuo sighs as soon as the bedroom door shuts—slams shut, more like it. He can hear the lock click on the door which is stupidly pointless, mainly because Izaya seems to have forgotten he has a key.

Unless he changed the lock. Again.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it...!" Shizuo paces over to the couch in order to not destroy the bookcases as _tempted_ as he is to spite his boyfriend. There's just no reason he can think of, not because of one little book making the flea angry enough to have an outburst like that and stomp off like a kid. Not saying that he doesn't usually act like a child, because he does, but a _book_ is hardly a reason to get angry. So there's no harm in plopping on the sofa, loudly and without a care if the wooden legs squeak against the hardwood floor with the knowledge Izaya can hear it and get even angrier.

Stupid flea, he growls to himself. Stupid, shitty-ass parasite of a boyfriend. He's not about to care about flipping the book open, no consideration for the silver letters pressed into leather and wondering why it would be so sacrilegious for a _book._ Sometimes the flea just likes getting angry over the stupidest things, apparently. Opening it he can see there's nothing wrong with it but old off-white paper, a bare shade of brown and much fancier than regular paper for the first empty sheets of the book. Tch, it's not something bad at all so far, and he honestly doubts it'll get any worse.

And then he reaches the first page. Or, going by the fact that there are pictures—no, not pictures—photographs. In silver corners, keeping them in place. No words anywhere on the page, clues starting to make sense to Shizuo after being more than blindsided by the photographs. Amateurishly taken, but with that almost professional edge and the object of the photos being patient enough to have _his_ picture taken in every single photo on the first two pages. The first one that catches Shizuo's eye is one with a little boy, bright red eyes and smiling at the camera shyly, dressed in brown overalls and a white shirt messily tucked in. His eyes don't light up like a kid's despite how small he is, Shizuo thinking he's seeing more to it than just a kid posing to take a photo in an empty background with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Maybe he's just overthinking this. But he can't be, not when he knows that same kind of smile because he remembers the same in his own childhood photographs after lifting a refrigerator with the intention of hurting his precious younger brother. And what's worse is that when he squints to get a better look he sees the smile looks all too fake, just like the ones Izaya gives when he says he's fine and Shizuo knows that he's not.

The next photos are Izaya, he guesses going by the red eyes and the messy tufts of black hair sticking up in awkward angles, all about the same age. Different outfits, though the background in the photos is the same as the smile in every single one of them. Lonely— _empty._ Maybe it's just 'cause he's a kid and Shizuo remembers the small details of Izaya's childhood, knowing Izaya never had any friends at any age and he guesses that Izaya's age is probably about five or so, going by the slimmer features and how tall he stands at the white wall behind him.

Pictures continue on both of the pages, Shizuo's eyes moving to the final one in the left corner where the photograph has a different background, one at a table and there's still nobody there but Izaya. Except in this one there's nothing but an empty table and Izaya in his overalls, hair disheveled and his eyes are red around the rims, even if he looks convincing enough with the bright smile of his that shows a little bit of teeth. But it looks so wrong, like the photograph is mocking him or something because Shizuo can't picture Izaya happy at all, not when he looks closer and the kid version of his boyfriend looks close to tears despite the smile he wears and he must've fooled the idiot who took a picture instead of comforting his boyfriend. And he can't think of what he'd do first to the idiot who ignored him, when he's clearly fricking _upset_ and Shizuo knows Izaya's always been a private person, emotions included.

The realization comes quietly creeping into his mind that his parents probably took his photos. Anger starts to burn to his fingertips, setting in his jaw as he carefully takes the corners and pops the photo free, watching it jump up from too much force and he winces soon after it goes airborne. At least it lands on the book, covering another photograph and revealing careful black handwriting on the back of it.

 _Izaya's sixth birthday._

For some reason Shizuo feels a little more numb, gingerly touching the photograph and flipping it over to the picture, staring at it for a longer while as he takes in the fake smile, the fact that this is his boyfriend and he's never seen photos of Izaya because the flea hates having his picture taken. Spouts some bull about how he doesn't want to be tracked and whatever, 'cause Shizuo has a set of photos from when he's asleep and doesn't hear a silent camera on his phone. Still, _this_ is like a whole different person he's looking at. Not his boyfriend who stormed up the stairs in a hissy fit that he doesn't understand and not his boyfriend he's hated longer than he's dated him.

It seems a lot harder hating a kid. Even harder when said kid is crying in his sixth birthday photo, and there's not even cake! There's nothing there for him—no presents, no card, no nothing for a six-year-old except a blank table and the obvious traces of tears around his eyes while the photographer is oblivious.

Swallowing bitterly, Shizuo carefully slips the photo back into its holders and turns the page, releasing a breath he doesn't realize he's holding when he sees the exact same thing—different background, different outfits, but the same _damn_ thing of Izaya being the only one in each photograph, smiling a little less but still there and it _never_ reaches his eyes. None of them have any genuine smile, nothing but empty backgrounds and Izaya pretending to look happy. And Shizuo hates it, because when he slips out another couple of photos they have captions on the back that are thoughtless, ranging from _Izaya_ to _Izaya after school._ Like he's some sort of specimen, going by how boring and lifeless the descriptions are up to Izaya's seventh birthday where he's not smiling at all, just staring at the camera and there are no traces of tears in his eyes but he still looks unhappy.

The next page is the exact same thing. Fewer photos, from the highest count of ten on the first page to seven on this one. One for his eighth birthday, tidy outfits that are bound to look uncomfortable, shorter hair and what's a little more concerning is how dark Izaya's eyes are. They're not even a little bright with childishness, but quiet and blank and empty when he doesn't smile and the stare isn't unnerving. It looks cruel to take pictures of him like that—Shizuo knows he has a photo album back in his apartment he keeps under some older things taken from his home with pictures of him and various descriptions under each and every one of them. The difference is he was at least _happy_ when he had his picture taken and his mother had an eye for getting his better moments.

Izaya's parents haven't shown up in any of these. He knows from what Izaya's said that he had a normal childhood—but is this fricking normal? Shizuo remembers posing with his mom and dad, Kasuka hanging out underneath an arm with the expressionless face (still happier than Izaya's look of apathy) he always wears. And these photos are just stupid, not even having anything else than Izaya staring blankly at the camera like a bored kid and he doesn't look the least bit excited for anything at all. Not his creepy stare when he's engrossed in something, but when he's zoning out and he couldn't care for reality at all.

Shizuo scowls to himself, turning the page—fewer photographs and god _damn it—_ the same things. Except Izaya's eyes are even worse, frowning instead of a blank look and he looks angry at this point when he has his photo taken by someone who is either blind as hell or just too stupid to realize that Izaya isn't happy at all. He knows that Izaya's childhood is something they've never talked about, Shizuo doesn't ever push beyond asking a couple more times than necessary and the answer is always no.

Now he thinks he knows why, but he won't be conceited enough to say it's the only reason. He'll bet on it being in these photos, as empty and lifeless as they are and they're just making him angry when he sees all of these, Izaya staring and frowning as if caught doing something bad and no one cares, just chides him and takes a photograph of him. The next page comes when Shizuo's fingers start to dig into his palms, hoping to find something else. And there's five on the next two pages, up to Izaya's tenth birthday where only one photo has _him_ in it—where his twin sisters were born and he looks sour as he holds the newborns in both of his arms. The rest comes as pictures of babies, obviously the twins, yet this time there isn't a picture of Izaya on his tenth birthday.

 _Next_ page. Shizuo grits his teeth a little harder, starting to get frustrated because there's five and there's only one with Izaya, again, and he looks angry while he holds the twins up in his skinny arms. His eyes are dark, the darkest he's ever seen in all of the photos and the frown on his face looks like a growl while he glares at the person behind the camera, uninterested in the twins.

No birthday photo. Not on the next page when Izaya's twelve and all of these damn pictures are of his younger sisters with the captions—Shizuo checks because he can't be imaging this, it'd be too stupid to try—that have descriptions of their heights, weight, even cute little things they do. All the while Shizuo starts feeling his blood boil, not paying attention to the time or anything at all besides the fact he hasn't seen a damn thing pertaining to his boyfriend and how dark his eyes are. It doesn't even look like his parents cared at all when he doesn't have a photo album to himself like Shizuo's mother makes sure her oldest son does, not caring if it's embarrassing. She wanted him to remember the happy moments of his childhood, not the ones dotted and messed up by his strength and his unruly behavior.

Taking a breath, Shizuo flips the page. Instead of seeing more disheartening photographs not failing to make him angrier, he sees nothing at all. No photos, no captions, nothing. By this point his anger's winning and taking the best of him as he flips through the pages, page after page of emptiness except sometimes he spots ripped paper and markings where photographs used to be on every single page and there's this feeling that he has that it's not a picture of him. Because the twins' names are on every single page and not one of them has Izaya on it—until the very end where Shizuo's teeth are clenching and he feels like ripping this damn thing in half.

And in that same careful handwriting on the back cover, there's a note in the middle of it. _Izaya is not our son anymore._

He sees red, blood boiling thickly under his fingertips and teeth starting to grind he knows it's bad for him, knows that Izaya always pokes him in the forehead to tell him that he's _overreacting, Shizu-chan,_ but this is still different because there's no explanation _why_ (is there ever one for disowning your son?) save for the kanji that literally disowns Izaya in a photo album that's supposed to be about him and he knows that Izaya ran away from home when he was fifteen. He never knew why, never thought it'd be something like his normal, average parents forgetting the fact that their son was miserable and he looked so frustrated by the end of the photos he doesn't blame Izaya at all for never mentioning his parents.

If he could, he would tear up this stupid book thinking that it would be better to forget about these people who are supposed to _love_ their damn son more than Shizuo does and it's not fair that Izaya didn't even have a chance at being a kid with parents who cared about him. Knowing him, he's likely to put it behind himself except there's the difference that Shizuo can't just let it go, not when this is his boyfriend and he wants to spend the rest of his fucking life with this man and he's never known that his childhood was so empty he can't help but think over the bubbling thoughts that seize his arms and squeeze around his muscles. There's no way to explain how—wrong, indescribable, disgusting, infuriating—Izaya's childhood is fucked up in more than just Izaya being an asshole when it's not even his fault, not with his parents being that oblivious and the twins having more pictures than Izaya altogether that have been ripped out of the book—it makes his skin crawl.

To which he remembers blithely that Izaya is upstairs in bed, the sun is already set and Shizuo is sitting in the dark with a light on reminding himself why it is a good idea in the first place to go through something like this without a damn clue of what the hell he thinks he's doing besides looking at a book that has Izaya's name on it but it doesn't have him in it. All he knows is that he can't see straight and if he thinks of Izaya who has undoubtedly gotten angry at him then he thinks he has some semblance as to _why_ he would be and that stupid salty black thing that sits in the back of his throat is more than frustrating because he hates being guilty when he wants to be right for once. It's not fair that Izaya is always right.

Frustration taking over and not wanting to make himself angrier, Shizuo gets up, pads over to the kitchen in his bare feet and his fingers brush past the key in his pocket to their room as he makes his way to the kitchen sink. Under the sink the cabinet opens to the garbage can, where the book promptly goes with a satisfying _thud_ and he's happy that he'll never see the anger or the sadness on his boyfriend's face like that again when he's not about to let it happen. No way, not as long as he can help it and he doesn't care if it sounds stupid or silly or whatever, it's just so fricking annoying that Izaya's had this book and he never said anything—

 _Of course_ he didn't.

Ugh, all of this is making his head spin as soon as he reaches the steps. He knows Izaya isn't in any mood to talk about it—that's fine, they don't have to. He just wants to go to bed and he has the urge to hold his boyfriend, squash him like the bug he is against him and keep him there when he's too frustrated to think properly. But it doesn't work like that, not when he knows Izaya's angry and an angry boyfriend can lead to knives sticking out of him like a pincushion.

Nonetheless, he'll still try to get a word in. As he moves up the stairs he's not thinking at all, never wanting to but preferring to speak his mind, maybe with a little more of what Izaya calls eloquence and how he's never really cared but he's got to say something. There's no way he's going to let that go, not when he's seen what he shouldn't have and he doesn't care if Izaya's angry at him now, because it's not about that anymore.

"Izaya, you awake?" Shizuo knocks on the door with two raps of his knuckles, waiting for an answer. Silence hangs in the air, taunting him with the fact he knows he's screwed up now. "Izaya, I know you're mad at me. Hell, I'd be mad at me too for being an idiot." Although he's no fan of making fun of himself, he knows a little self-depreciation may be necessary. Especially when dealing with Izaya, who makes a living out of making fun of him. The key in his hand only adds on to this, knowing fully well he can just open the door with it or with his bare hands if needed except the point here is that he wants to know if Izaya's awake—which is obvious, because Izaya never sleeps without him even if it's three in the morning and he's had all night to fall asleep.

No answer means he scratches the key against the door lock, trying to fit it in before turning the lock slowly, finding out it still works and if Izaya hasn't changed the lock then he's not trying very hard. Either that or he's tired—as the door opens, nothing moves and the light is off in _technically_ (it hasn't been very technical in a while) Izaya's room. There's still an Izaya-shaped lump wrapped up in blankets and hogging all of them, along with his fancy electric blanket he hasn't used in ages. Why would he, when Shizuo has been spending nearly every night over?

(It's not even a big deal when Shizuo knows he hasn't skipped a night for three months.)

Making his way over to the bed with the door shutting behind him, Shizuo glances at the lump of blankets wrapped up in a messy Izaya burrito and the rise and fall, mainly covered by blankets, still too light to be fully asleep. He may be somewhat asleep—though Shizuo knows when Izaya's faking it like he is now.

"Izaya, I know you're mad at me. I'm not that stupid." Shizuo sighs as he climbs into bed, no point in trying to win back the blankets as he sits against the headboard. "But are you really gonna stay mad at me all night? I know you hate playing the silent game unless if I really messed up."

More silence. "...And I'm guessing that I did, didn't I." A run through his hair with a heavy palm has him considering taking off his shirt, since he runs hot enough at night to not need one anyway. Izaya doesn't move, doesn't do anything. Just lies there and would he _stop_ with the guilt-tripping—it may not be intentional but with Izaya it may as well be because he's a selfish parasitic moron with an ego ten miles wide and farther up his—now he's getting off topic.

He swallows a breath, thinking things over and trying to forget those stupid things that start to burn into his eyes. He doesn't _want_ to remember his boyfriend like that. "I'm sorry." The words crackle in his throat and up to his eyes, watching Izaya carefully and there's still no reaction and it's fine—for now. As long as he has enough time to recollect himself and not sound like a complete idiot and get himself kicked out of bed for a more permanent sentence. "I'm sorry you're an asshole and you didn't want to tell me why I shouldn't ask stupid things. No, I'm not an idiot, so don't even think I'm saying that." Great, now he's contradicting himself and sounding even more like an idiot.

So it's much harder than it looks when Izaya's not watching him and maybe that's the opposite of what he needs but he wants his boyfriend with him and he hates it when they fight like this. He hates Izaya angry and he hates the silence when his lover talks himself into sleep more often than not. It shouldn't be this fricking _hard_ but it is and he guesses that it's karma for being an even bigger idiot earlier.

"Izaya, look at me. I know you're awake and you just have to listen to me now." Shizuo brushes a hand over the blankets, hates how Izaya curls away from his touch even though he knows how much Izaya loves to have attention focused only on him. It's not like he doesn't feel like an idiot already, not that he can take back time and make sure that stupid photo album never came into existence and caused his boyfriend to fight with him like this. Stupid because he shouldn't be getting mad or angry or hell, even upset when it's not him that went through the lonely childhood and the mocking photos or—no, no, there's no point in thinking about that.

 _Let it go,_ he bites his tongue and shuts himself up for once. Knowing that Izaya already has makes him sound like an even bigger idiot. If he shuts his eyes and squeezes his hands into fists, thinking of Izaya and reminding himself of when Izaya sleeps with him, when Izaya's with him and they're alone, and when Izaya doesn't make him feel everything under a whole spectrum of messy emotions, it's easy enough to do.

Never mind that it's not even midnight and he still feels groggy. "You're not going to listen to me anyway, so I'll have to make you listen." Izaya doesn't react fast enough to the arms encircling him, picking him up and he better listen now because Izaya is too stubborn for his own good and Shizuo knows he's probably making him angrier when he brings Izaya into his lap and catches tired red eyes glaring back at him with silence to back up the look. It feels like a slap to the face, cold and wet and disappointed to just plain angry and Izaya's always been a wet cat whenever he's mad. "Just this. Then you can go back to sleep or whatever and I'll leave you alone. Deal?" Just to soothe the glare and the ice daggers directed at him, eyes softening minimally if he looks hard enough to notice. Izaya still squirms in his grasp and tears himself free, pushing himself away and Shizuo tries hard not to look guilty. He really shouldn't be.

"You'll never leave me alone, protozoan idiot." Izaya grumbles, setting himself up while his back hunches, like it usually does when he's tired and on the verge of falling asleep. His eyes stay hard, however, and Shizuo feels the sting much more when Izaya makes a point of regarding him harshly. "Are you satisfied with your little experiment? Or did you fry your brain cell trying to make sense of your stupidity?"

"Oi, shut up, flea." Shizuo grumbles, "And no, I'm not _satisfied_ because you're the one hiding up here like you can sleep without me. You know how much you hate your stupid blanket." Izaya's eyes widen, just a small amount with the surprise that fades into sleepy annoyance. The scowl on his face deepens into a twisting frown while he pulls the blankets tighter around himself.

"I'm fine without a furnace squashing me in my sleep, you heavy monster." Izaya huffs, never realizing the disadvantage in his heating blanket being conveniently thrown off the bed and he's never turned it on since the day he bought it. Shizuo won't remind him now or it'll just start another stupid argument that will keep Izaya up all night until he talks himself to sleep. Or Shizuo first, since he's so boring when he rambles about nothing at all. "You're too heavy and you stink, so I'd rather not smell like a beast in the morning. It's bad enough when we fu—"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. And you reek of rotting fish." Shizuo interrupts, eyes narrowing in a challenge daring Izaya to finish his sentence while the latter's glare changes to a look of disgust. "If you don't like it, then why do you sleep with me, hm? You know you can just kick me out and change the lock." It's better when Izaya's closer to him, a shudder rippling through blankets when he's still cold even with three blankets wrapped tightly around him. He may be stubborn, but only for what he wants.

"Because Shizu-chan will break into my apartment and throw me out of a window if I do." Izaya grumbles, noticing Shizuo's open arms that gesture for him to move closer—gaze narrowing back into a tired glare. He knows just how much he's losing and he won't admit it to it, never. He's not good at that and he doesn't think gods should lower themselves down to a monster's level. "I'd rather not make a pretty pattern of blood and guts on the sidewalk. Besides having things left to do I don't think my humans would appreciate the show."

"Why not?" Shizuo snorts, taking a hand that has ever so cautiously slithered out of the cocoon of blankets and close to his with a thumb dragging over the colder flesh and bringing it to his chest. It's a direct way to warm Izaya up, seeing as his boyfriend clearly knows the better option when he loosens his hold on the blankets and climbs into Shizuo's lap before dragging the blankets back around himself. "You mess with them all the time. It'd only be fair."

"Shizu-chan's so mean," Izaya murmurs, low tone edging close to a growl when Shizuo comes close and kisses his forehead with a dry brush of lips. Seeing as he's not reaching for his knife Shizuo decides he's lucky enough to try again, only as his hands rub Izaya's upper arms to try and bring back circulation when Izaya shivers again. "Barging into my apartment, taking over my bed...what's next, ne?"

Maybe he's forgiven. He thinks so, as soon as hands intertwine around his lower back and Izaya's close enough to feel the heat radiating off of Shizuo and steal it all for his own. "Dunno, you? Thought you liked me or something."

Izaya laughs, head tipping back as if it's the funniest thing he's heard all week. Probably is, asshole. But the sight is the best thing Shizuo's seen in too long. They sit like that for a little longer, moments passing by in comfortable silence and Izaya thinks of something to say while drowsiness kicks in.

"No, no, Shizu-chan," Izaya tsks, oddly affectionate with a nuzzle to Shizuo's cheek and resting his head on a shoulder for a little longer. He's silent for a couple moments, breaths starting to fade into Shizuo's neck before he finishes the thought. " _Like_ doesn't even come close to your level." Kisses press to Shizuo's neck, soft and barely there when Izaya's too tired to come up with an argument or pretend he's angry anymore.

"Love you," he says— _means_ it, and he knows he feels the quirk of an almost-smile on his throat. Right before Izaya lifts his head up, meeting his lips with a bumpy kiss that eventually smooths out as Shizuo kisses him for long enough and Izaya's the one who leads, this one too un-Izaya-like to ever be classified. Or maybe just too much like the Izaya who doesn't hide when they're in their little private world like this.

"Ah," Izaya breathes against him, shifting to get comfortable as his knees tuck to one side. "Silly Shizu-chan." He kisses too sweet and with too much of a laugh on his lips to go without giggling for at least a second or more. And Izaya calls _him_ childish.

"More than your stupid blanket?" Izaya laughs against his lips, eventually coming back down to a quiet chuckle when he runs out of air and this is like an apology note Shizuo will probably have to finish with ootoro, wine, and plenty of other expensive things just to get even with Izaya.

Definitely worth it when he gets to hear arguments go like this. "Love you...more than the stupid blanket."

"Good." Shizuo kisses Izaya's nose, just to watch him scrunch up his nose before he kisses him again.

* * *

 _It wasn't supposed to be this long I swear but it is and I don't know what happened but it's late and I'm tired so someone kill me now. Oh dear, this is just too much. And please, let me know of any spelling mistakes. I think I'll be up all night at this point._

 _Thank you for reading._


End file.
